


Inside Straight

by DevilsHole



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilsHole/pseuds/DevilsHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Family's always embarrassing, isn't it?"</p>
<p>-- Douglas Adams</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Straight

~*~*~

Lom Trevors slid wearily off his horse and squinted up at the sign on the little jailhouse. Before going inside he slapped some of the day’s trail dust off and pulled out the telegram that had brought him hurrying from Vincennes to the neighboring town of Sulphur. He glanced at it again before going up the steps of the jailhouse.

 

KID CURRY CAPTURED. NEED ASSIST IN EXTRIDITION.

– SHERIFF JEREMIAH PINS, SULPHUR, MO.

 

Sheriff Pins was a pot-bellied, middle-aged man, currently sound asleep behind his desk. Lom Trevors cleared his throat a few times and Pins came noisily awake.

“Uh … um … yeah?” He focused blearily on Trevors, who shoved the telegram forward.

“Lom Trevors. You sent for me.”

Pins glanced at the telegram, then at Trevors’ star.

“Yup. Shore did. Got Kid Curry in there.” He smiled proudly. “This here’s a quiet town. Don’t get more’n one ’r’ two people in here all year. Havin’ Kid Curry … well, kinda makes us famous.”

“Can I see ’im?” Trevors asked sharply.

“Shore.” Pins arose laboriously and let Trevors into the small cell block.

There were three cells. Curry was in the first one, sitting on a bunk staring down at a plate of untouched food. He looked up when they entered, rose to his feet when he saw Trevors. Trevors saw the Kid had a helluva bruise darkening his jaw and murder darkening his eyes.

“Mind if I talk to the prisoner a while?” Trevors asked. Pins shrugged.

“Shore. Gotta take yer gun.”

Trevors surrendered his Colt and Pins went to the door.

“Jes’ knock when y’ want out. I’ll be out front catchin’ up on—” He yawned, then grinned – “on m’paperwork.”

The door clanged shut; Lom pulled up a stool and sat close to the bars. Curry was pacing like a tiger. His hand kept traveling to his hip, searching for the gun that wasn’t there.

“What happened?” Trevors asked. “Where’s Heyes?”

Curry stopped. “Somebody here recognized me, turned me in to the sheriff ’fore I’d been in town two minutes.”

“Looks like you resisted arrest,” Trevors remarked. Curry gave him a level, dangerous stare.

“I didn’t. Heyes did this.”

“What?” Trevors jumped up. “What in thunder for?”

“I don’t know!” Curry bellowed back, then drew away, shaking his head in disgust. “Sorry, Lom. It’s not you I’m mad at. I gotta get outta here.”

“Kid, what the devil’s going on? Where’s Heyes?”

“California, for all I know,” Curry muttered.

“What?” Trevors made himself sit again, slowly, full of dread. “Kid. Sit down and tell me, calm-like, what this is all about.”

Curry rounded on him. “I don’t know what it’s all about! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. Something weird’s going on. I don’t know what.”

“You said Heyes’s the one gave you that purple jaw,” Trevors said tightly. “Now you tryin’ t’ tell me he turned you in?”

“Lom.” Curry’s tone was taut, impatient. “Lemme tell you what happened. Then maybe you can figure out if I’m the one who’s crazy, or him.” Curry sat on his bunk, kicking the plate of food out of his way with a snarl. The Kid was normally more affable than most, but when he got into one of his rare angers, only Heyes could reason with him, and even Heyes walked softly around him. Trevors could see the Kid was in just such a temper now, and Heyes was nowhere to be seen.

“’Bout three days ago Heyes ’n’ me were ridin’ out of Cooper, toward Diamondville. We only stopped in Cooper long enough to water our horses and have a drink, then we rode on out. There wasn’t any trouble at all.

“Anyway, when we got t’ the crossroads, just outside Sulphur, Heyes stopped. He’d been kinda quiet all the way once we left Cooper, but I didn’t think anything about it. So just out of the clear blue sky he says: Kid, I been thinkin’.” Curry squinted briefly at Trevors, revealing a glimpse of the hurt and confusion he was hiding under his anger.

Trevors resisted the temptation to make a joke about all the times those three words had gotten them all in trouble; the Kid wasn’t in the mood for humor.

“He said he thought it would be a good idea if we split up.”

“What?” Trevors exclaimed. “For good?”

Curry shrugged. “I don’t know. I asked him what for. He said he thought he’d spotted a bounty hunter who knew us on sight back there in Cooper. Lom …” Curry looked at him, hard, for a moment. “I know him. He was lying. Making it up for some reason.”

Though he couldn’t think of a reason himself, Trevors believed Curry; if anyone knew Heyes it was the Kid.

“There was no posse, no trouble, no sign of anything like that. Not that I saw. And if there was—”

Lom cut in. “Why wouldn’t Heyes just say so?”

“Exactly.” The word was a plea. “He was acting all … sort of anxious, the whole time we were sitting there arguing. I wanted to know what was going on. What he was up to. Lom …” Curry leaned forward, searching for help in understanding this. “Up to now, I woulda said nothin’ he could do would surprise me. You know what I mean?”

Trevors nodded, turning his gaze discreetly down while Curry mastered his emotions. Curry and Heyes had grown up together; they’d probably die together, and it was no more than right and proper. This … this was a jarring discord.

After a moment Curry went on, subdued.

“Anyway, we were sittin’ there arguing about I still don’t know what, and he hauled off and belted me. I mean really belted me.”

“So I see,” Trevors muttered.

Curry touched his jaw. “Right off my horse. And out.”

Trevors whistled.

“Yeah. He wasn’t kidding. When I woke up I was layin’ in the shade under a tree. Heyes was gone and so was my horse.” Curry smiled grimly. “He left me my gun.”

Trevors was shaking his head. “It don’t make no sense, Kid.”

Curry gave him a look. “You’re tellin’ me? I could see he’d gone on toward Diamondville, so since Sulphur was closer, I figgered I walk in here, rent or buy a horse, and find him. Drag him off his horse, beat the livin’ daylights out of him and find out what in hell was goin’ on.”

Trevors nodded. He would expect Curry to do exactly that.

Curry glanced out the little barred window, obviously fighting to control his frustration and anger. “But I stopped in the saloon for a drink first. I needed one.” Normally, Lom knew, he would have been more cautious, watchful, but normal was not a word that applied to his situation or state of mind.

Trevors sighed. “And someone spotted you.”

Curry nodded. “I still don’t know who. First thing I knew of it, sheriff’d drawn and had his sixgun on me. So I went peaceable.” Curry grimaced.

“And you ain’t heard a word from Heyes, or nothin’?” Trevors asked.

Curry shook his head.

“For all I know he’s a hundred miles from here,” he said miserably. “Probably never see ’im again.”

“Kid.” Trevors searched for words of comfort. This whole thing bothered him, none of it more than seeing Curry in this situation alone. Heyes and Curry were inseparable in Trevors’ mind;  one without the other was … well, not half a man, but a man with one hell of a hole in him.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said finally. Curry slumped on the cot, dropped his head into his hands.

“Lom, you can’t get me out ’n’ you know it. You’re a lawman now.” He shook his head without lifting it. “When do I get shipped out?”

“Coupla days. Kid, I’ll find Heyes. He can—”

“Lom, ain’t you listening? Besides, I don’t have any idea where in hell he is.”

Trevors stood up.

“I’ll try Diamondville. I’ll get the sheriff here t’ hold off on extraditin’ you ’til I get back. I’ll find Heyes ‘n’ tell him what’s happened. That won’t be breakin’ no laws. Least no major ones.”

Curry glanced up hopelessly.

“What makes you think he’ll give a damn?”

Trevors shook his head. “I know you’re upset—”

“Damn right I’m upset!’

“Jes hang on. I’ll get Pins t’ sit tight an’ head for Diamondville first thing in the morning.”

Curry sighed, stood up. “I doubt it’ll do much good, but I can’t think of anything else.” He looked steadily at Trevors for a moment, confusion in his eyes. “If you find him …” He faltered into silence.

“I’ll find him,” Trevors promised, and turned to go.

~*~*~

In the middle of the night, Trevors started awake to a hand pressed over his mouth and a shape looming over him in the darkness.

He tried to struggle up, reaching for the gun he habitually kept at his bedside. It was gone. Then the shape moved away. A lamp was turned up, revealing the tired, strained face of Hannibal Heyes.

“You’re too predictable, Lom. Over there.” He indicated the dresser with a nod. “You really ought to keep one under your pillow.” He set the lamp down and settled, slowly and stiffly, into the room’s one chair.

Relieved and indignant, Trevors sat up.

“What the blue blazes is going on, Heyes? I just seen the Kid, and I – what’s wrong with you?”

Heyes smiled. “I got into a little disagreement with an old friend.”

Trevors sat bolt upright. “The Kid didn’t...?”

Heyes scowled. “What? Shoot me?” He laughed. “Lom, what are you talking about?”

“You been shot?”

Heyes held up one hand. “Wait a second. Let’s try ‘n’ do this in a orderly manner. Now, what are you doing in Sulphur?”

Trevors started at Heyes. “I got a telegram from the sheriff here. Someone ID’d the Kid.”

Heyes’ face fell.

“He’s in jail.”

Heyes shook his head. “I swear, I can’t leave him alone for a minute. Is he okay?”

“He’s alive. Sportin’ a hell of a bruise on his chin.”

Heyes nodded, eyes hard. “I know. I couldn’t risk not makin’ the first one count. But other than that is he all right?”

Trevors sighed impatiently. “He’s in jail, Heyes. How all right can you expect him to be? He thinks … he thinks either you gone crazy, or he has.”

Heyes winced. “Yeah, I can imagine what he thinks. There is a reason.”

“I hope so,” Trevors said flatly. “He’s all mixed up. It ain’t that the Kid’s dumb, exactly, Heyes, but … you got a way of thinkin’, sometimes, that makes a carny con man look straighter a Sunday school teacher. He don’t know what’s goin’ on. He’s madder’n a cat in a water barrel.” Lower, Trevors said, “An’ he’s hurtin’.”

Heyes looked away.

“He can’t figure out what you meant by what you did. Hell, I can’t figure it out either. He’s sittin’ in that jail cell right now thinkin’ he’s got no chance, cuz I can’t bust him out and for all he knows you’re a hundred miles away and don’t give a damn anyway—”

“Well how was I supposed to know he’d get himself arrested straight off?” Heyes cried.

Calmly Trevors said, “Sheriff Pins asked me to come down and help him transport the Kid to Wyler. I was in Vincennes. I told the Kid I’d try to find you. He didn’t think it’d do any good. And now you know all I do. I’m waitin’ fer you to explain all the rest.”

Heyes shifted uncomfortably.

“You need a doctor?” Trevors asked, grouchy.

“No. It’s just a graze.” Heyes settled back into the chair. “Lom … don’t go tellin’ all this to the Kid, okay? It’s sort of … delicate. I want to tell him in my own time and my own way. Course I didn’t realize I was gonna have to bust him outta jail first. When’re they extraditing him?”

“We are takin’ him to Wyler day after tomorrow. I put the sheriff off so’s I could find you, but he aint gonna wait forever. He’s nervous havin’ a big celebrity in his jail.”

“Well, I could use the day’s rest,” Heyes said. “Why is it every time we turn around these days somebody recognizes us? We were never this famous when we were still outlaws.”

Trevors knew that by ‘these days’ Heyes meant since they’d gotten their provisional amnesty from the governor of Wyoming and had started doing their best to go straight.

“You’d best spill the beans now, Heyes,” he said sternly, “’fore I decide to turn you in. If I was you I wouldn’t wanna take my chances just now in the same cell as Kid Curry.”

Heyes nodded, exhaled tiredly. “Okay. It started a few days ago when we rode through Cooper. We only stopped long enough to water our horses and have a beer. That was when I saw him.”

“Who?” Trevors asked.

“He spotted me, but the Kid’d gone to check on our horses. I cleared out, met the Kid comin’ back, and we took ourselves off outta Cooper.”

“Bounty hunter?” Trevors guessed.

“No.” Heyes’ eyes were faraway, grim. “A two-bit, low-life murdering animal. Just as soon kill you as look at you. Plus he had it in fer us. Specially the Kid. We’ve known him a long time, Lom.”

“So why didn’t you just tell the Kid, stead of doing what you did?”

Heyes went on, again ignoring Lom, as if he were trying to figure it out for himself.

“He knew we were wanted alive or not, and I knew he’d prefer deliverin’ us crossways over our saddles. He had to know me when he saw me, an’ then he’d know the Kid was with me. So I had to take care of him.”

“Heyes, why didn’t you tell the Kid all this?”

Heyes looked at Trevors, his eyes uncharacteristically hard. “Because of who it was. That’s why I had to … to stop the Kid, to go back and deal with him myself.”

“Well, who was this guy?”

“Bill Curry. The Kid’s brother.”

After a stunned silence, Trevors said, incredulous, “Are you tellin’ me you knocked the Kid out and stole his horse jus’ t’keep him outta yer hair while you turned ’round and killed his brother?”

Heyes was massaging his temples, eyes closed. “You don’t need to shout, Lom. I can tell you don’t quite get the picture. Bill Curry was the most worthless murdering thug you could ever come across. The Kid knows it; since he was about 10 he’s had nothing to do with Bill. Bill’s had it in for him since then. The problem is the Kid wouldn’t draw on him. He has this strange sort of … reservation about Bill. So I knew I’d have to deal with him if I wanted him dealt with.”

“You tellin’ me the Kid wouldn’t shoot back at this varmint, not even to defend himself?”

“I asked him once. I suggested he settle it once and for all before Bill ambushed us someplace and shot us both in the back. He looked at me – you know that dumb mule-headed look he gets, like a kid with a sucker he don’t wanna share, so you know there’s no arguin’ with him?”

Trevors smiled despite himself.

“Well, he got that look on his mug and said ‘Bill’s kin.’” Heyes rolled his eyes. “Like that’s some kinda defense. ‘Bill’s kin. I don’t like him an’ I don’t trust him an’ if somebody was to fill him full o’ holes it’d be no more’n ’e deserves and I wouldn’t cry over it, but I aint gonna be the one to do it.’”

Heyes adjusted his position again, wincing. “So when I saw Bill in Cooper, I knew there was no point in goin’ through it all with the Kid again, but I got an idea. I knew Bill was wanted for a couple of murders from a few years back in Denver, and I knew the sheriff in Cooper was a stranger—that is, me and the Kid had never met him.”

Trevors gaped. “You decided to turn him in?”

“I know. It kinda goes against my principles and all, but I was gettin’ real tired of seein’ Bill’s ugly mug behind us on the trail every couple of years. He’d’ve done the same to us. Only dead, not alive like I planned. Course, ideally I needed him unconscious so he couldn’t finger me.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you just tell the Kid?”

“It’s his brother. I didn’t want the Kid involved at all if I could help it. Telling him wouldn’t have helped, it just would’ve made him feel bad.

“Unfortunately I couldn’t come up with a convincing reason for us to split up at the crossroads.” Heyes grimaced. “He knows me too well. He knew something was up. So I had to—”

“Yeah, I saw what you did to persuade him.”

Heyes smiled mirthlessly, holding up his right hand. The knuckles were red and swollen. “I didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. He’d beat me in a fair fight.” He made a face. “Then I laid a false trail toward Diamondville, knowing he’d head into Sulphur, get a horse, and come after me, ready to pound the hell outta me by way of politely asking me if I’d lost my mind.”

Trevors had to smile at the reminder of how well these two knew one another.

“I doubled back and went cross country, caught up with Bill a few hours later, some way south of that crossroads.”

“And you killed ’im,” Trevors said, level.

Heyes snorted. “Lom, I wouldn’t just gun down _anybody_ , not even Bill Curry. Specially not him. You think I could face the Kid after that? How do you think that’d make him feel? I rode up along a ridge to get the drop on him. I had him covered and I fired a warning shot, told him to get off his horse. He did, but he jumped behind a rock and started shooting.

“I got down and came around behind him again, tried to get close enough so I could get the drop again, maybe even wing ’im if I had to, but …”

Heyes allowed himself another joyless grin. “He got off the first shot. I managed to do better with mine.”

“Better,” Lom echoed, schooling his face to stillness so the sharp look Heyes gave him uncovered no clues to what he was thinking. He found himself a little surprised at this cold-blooded side of Heyes. If there was a real difference between pushing a man to gun for you, and going gunning for him, Lom wasn’t sure he saw it. Somehow, enough of his discomfort must have shown, because Heyes sighed.

“I know what you’re thinking, Lom. I wasn’t aiming to kill him, just be rid of him. If you knew Bill, you’d know it had to be done. It was going to be him or us, one day.”

Lom met Heyes’ eyes. “Two to one?”

Heyes shook his head. “You still don’t get it. The Kid wouldn’t shoot back.”

Lom drew back, startled; that angle hadn’t hit him yet. But then in all the years he’d known Heyes and Curry, they’d never fired except in direst need, or self-defense. Now Heyes was making it clear he’d acted, not in attack or in self-defense, but in defense of his partner. That was a more familiar motive, one Lom was more comfortable with: calculated, but not cold-blooded. Heyes through and through.

“Okay,” he said finally. “So you shot him.”

“Well, he got off a lucky ricochet first. I refuse to believe it was anything but luck.”

“Then you got lucky,” Lom said.

Heyes raised his eyes to Trevors’; they were bleak. “I wouldn’t call it lucky, Lom. I still have to tell the Kid. I have to face him with this.”

“Was there a reward on Bill?”

“Thousand dollars,” Heyes said levelly. “I buried him out there in the desert.”

Lom sighed. “I’m sorry, Heyes. Dang it, I know you better than that. But this whole situation’s thrown me.”

“Me too,” Heyes admitted. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I was tryin’ to do the best thing, for the Kid and me. But now, I kinda feel like it was gonna end just like it did, no matter what I tried.”

Lom nodded, thinking about how Curry was likely to take the news. They were close, Heyes and Curry – none closer – but he sure didn’t envy Heyes having to tell his partner this.

“Are you the only help the sheriff’s recruited to take him to Wyler?” Heyes shifted uncomfortably again.

“You sure you don’t need a doctor?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Just me. About half a day’s easy ridin’. Heyes, now, don’t be tellin’ me yer plans—”

“I know; you don’t want to be an accomplice. I’ll leave you out of it. Except…”

“What?”

“If you could see your way clear to sort of … accidentally obstruct Pins at a crucial moment on the trail.” Heyes smiled conspiratorially. “It would help keep anyone from getting hurt.”

“Hurt?” Trevors scowled. “You better tell me what you’re plannin’, Heyes, just to be on the safe side.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve worked one out. Listen, don’t tell the Kid any of what I’ve told you. I need to tell him myself, in my own way.”

“I’ll bet,” Trevors interjected. “He’s liable to finish what his brother started. Are you sure you don’t want him to know you’re gonna bust him out?”

“I’m not going to bust him out, Lom, I can’t get him out of that jail. I’ll wait ’til you’re all on the road to Wyler.”

“But he’s gonna want to know you’re gonna get him freed,” Trevors insisted. Heyes shrugged.

“You can tell him I’m here. Tell him I’ll get him out. For what it’s worth. I don’t know how much stock he’s gonna put in my word just now.”

“I’ll tell him,” Lom promised, wondering himself whether Curry would believe him.

~*~*~

Lom went to see Curry the next morning. The Kid was no better for the night’s sleep – in fact Trevors would have bet a dollar Curry hadn’t closed his eyes all night. He stared red-eyed and irritable at Trevors.

“Thought you were ridin’ out this morning.”

Trevors drew closer to the bars; instinctively Curry did the same.

“He’s here.”

Curry looked at him in silence for a long moment. Trevors, seeing the hurt, the skepticism, and the uncontrollable hope in Curry’s face, had to force himself not to reveal all Heyes had told him. Instead he glanced toward the door to be sure Pins wasn’t there, then said:

“He can’t bust you out, but he’s gonna try to get you free while we’re on the road to Wyler.”

“You’re a lousy liar, Lom.”

Trevors looked at him in astonishment. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I can see you ain’t tellin’ me the truth.”

Irritated, Lom said, “Look a little closer, then. He’s here and he means to get you free.”

Curry’s eyes narrowed. “He tell you why he did all that … back at the crossroads?”

“Um … nope, nope he didn’t. He wouldn’t tell me nothin’ except he’ll get you free.”

Curry laughed harshly. “It’s his fault I’m here in the first place!”

“Now, that aint ’xactly true, Kid. Come on. I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that.”

Curry turned away. “I thought I knew a lot of things, Lom.”

“Now, Kid. Listen, just hang in there. Don’t do nothing stupid and wait fer Heyes.”

“And what if he doesn’t show?” Curry snapped, anger and uncertainty unleashed. “Lom, I can’t do that. I can’t just wait and hope and …”

Hard, Trevors said, “You won’t trust him?” He didn’t like having to back Curry against a wall like this; he could see the warring in his face of the old, unshakeable faith and the new tearing doubt. Finally Curry looked away.

“I don’t know.”

The door behind Trevors opened. He stepped away from the bars, trying to catch Curry’s eye for a final glance of meaning, but Curry was staring at the patch of daylight outside the narrow barred window, and didn’t turn around again.

~*~*~

 “Rise and shine, Curry!” The sheriff’s shout and the clang of the keys against the cell bars would have wakened the dead, but Lom saw that the effort was wasted. Curry stood at the window, facing freedom, and Lom would’ve been willing to believe the Kid had been standing like that all night.

He turned, bloodshot eyes ignoring the sheriff to fix on Lom, who offered a split-second grin of encouragement. The Kid took it in, blinked, and set his face in a mask of indifference as the sheriff  handcuffed him and pushed him out of the cell, through the jail, and onto the street.

Lom followed. He’d stayed away the rest of the day before, not wanting to seem too interested in Curry – that might make Pins suspicious later. He hadn’t heard again from Heyes; knowing the man, knowing his penchant for elaborate schemes, Lom was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Pins loaded the unresisting Curry into the back of the wagon while Lom instinctively scanned the street, empty at this early hour.

“Let’s go,” Pins called. “It’s four hours t’Wyler.”

Lom swung up into the buckboard next to Pins and said, “Hope we’ll get some lunch when we get there.”

Pins took up the reins. “Becky’s Café’s got the best beef stew fer miles around. Giddap, there!” He shook the reins and the wagon shuddered into motion. Lom glanced back, but Curry, seated crossways in the back of the buckboard, was staring blankly into space.

~*~*~

 “Talkative, innee?”

Lom glanced at Sheriff Pins, who inclined his balding head toward the back of the wagon.

Lom shrugged.

“Cheer up, Curry!” Pins called back. “You gonna be a star. Yer hangin’ll be the biggest event Kansas ever saw!”

Lom glanced into the back of the jouncing buckboard. Curry hadn’t moved, sparing no interest for any of Pin’s occasional jibes as they‘d rolled out of town. As sure as if he’d said it, Lom knew Curry’s thoughts were taken up entirely with Heyes.

“Makes you so sure they’ll hang ‘im?” he asked Pins, as if idly. “He ain’t never killed no one.”

Pins chuckled. “So what? Him an’ his gang stole a lot of money from railroads and banks. Railroads and banks is owned by rich folks. Money talks, Trevors. Don’t need to be no book-learned fool t’know that. If the money folks got any say in it, he’ll hang, and his partner too, when they catch ‘im.”

Lom had to admit to himself that Pins was probably right, but  aloud he offered no more than a pensive grunt.

“Wish we coulda got Heyes too,” Pins said, clucking his tongue. “That woulda been something, seein’ ’em swinging side by side.”

Lom glanced back. Curry was still staring into space, but his jaw was tight.

Oblivious, Pins continued spinning his heroic fantasy. “Who knows, maybe his partner’ll come ridin’ into town lookin’ for ’im. Maybe I’ll get him too. Story is he ain’t as fast with a gun as Curry. Might get the drop on ’im. Wouldn’t that be somethin’, shoot the bastard dead an’ take ’im t’Wyomin’ strung over a pack mule like the worthless damn’ varmint ’e is?”

Lom glanced back again. Curry was still staring – staring murder, right between Pins’ shoulder blades.

“Wouldn’t that be somethin’?” Pins cackled.

“Yup,” Lom said, mentally crossing his fingers. “Sure would.”

~*~*~

They rattled down into a muddy gully, trees and scrub brush pressing close to the road on either side, and abruptly Pins pulled up, wagon jostling to a rough stop. A log, too big to roll over, lay across the road.

Lom glanced around at the trees and bushes as Pins pulled the brake and wrapped the reins around it, but saw no sign of Heyes.

“Dagnabit.” Pins glanced at Trevors, who quickly weighed his awareness that this was no accident against the natural expectation that he would get down and help.  He didn’t want to get between Heyes and his goal, but he also wanted Pins, later, to think he knew nothing about the rescue. So he sighed and climbed slowly down from the wagon, glancing at Curry, suddenly alert and watchful in the back.

On the other side, Pins had thudded heavily to the ground with another mild curse, kicking his way through the brambles and rubbish alongside the road.

Even Lom, who was looking for a trap, didn’t notice the leaf-covered snare until it snapped around Pins’ leg and yanked him sideways, upside down, then up into the air, flailing and flapping like a chicken snatched up for dinner by a  hungry farmer.

Pins yelped like a kicked dog and scrabbled awkwardly for his pistol as Heyes slipped out of the trees and conked him on the head with his own sixgun. One last jerk and Pins hung still.

Heyes holstered his gun, glanced at the wagon – where Curry was twisting around, trying to see what was happening – then looked up at Lom as he approached.

Lom eyeballed the dangling sheriff, then Heyes, who looked pale and tired.

“You coulda just bushwhacked us, you know,” Lom said, patting Pins’ pockets until he found the key to the handcuffs. “Got the drop on ’im.” Although, to be fair, he thought, this was one of Heyes’ simpler plans.

Heyes scowled at him, apparently genuinely puzzled. “ _Anyone_ coulda done that.”

“Lom!” Curry shouted. “Get me loose!”

Lom gave Heyes a questioning look, and Heyes shrugged.

“Go ahead. I gotta face him sooner or later. I’ll cut the sheriff down. Then you better get  him outta here before he wakes up.”

Heyes pulled out a clasp knife and Lom circled around the wagon, leaning in to drag Curry to the edge of the buckboard. He untied him quickly – not helped at all by Curry’s impatient yanking at the cuffs – then smiled at the Kid’s surprise when he handed over his gun and watch, collected from Pins’ desk drawer that morning.

“Thanks.” Curry holstered the gun, rubbed his raw wrists for a moment, then edged around Trevors, headed for the front of the wagon – headed for Heyes. Like a magnet, Lom thought. Even if he did plan to belt him one once he got there.

Following, Lom froze when Curry did, but before he could blink the Kid’s sixgun was in his hand and he’d fired.

At Heyes.

Trevors spun in time to see the gun fly from Sheriff Pins’ fingers and the man himself jerk back, flail, slip in the mud and land hard on his back, his head thumping audibly against the ground.

Heyes, caught in the act of coiling his impromptu snare, stumbled back against a tree as Pins dropped.

Trevors and the Kid hurried around the wagon.

“You okay?” Lom asked Heyes, who nodded, a little wide-eyed. Both men looked down at the sheriff lying sprawled in the mud, his gun a few feet away. He’d been within arm’s reach of Heyes when he drew, Lom thought. He wouldn’t have missed.

“Guess I didn’t hit ’im hard enough the first time,” Heyes said, his expression showing his awareness of what that had almost cost him.

Lom bent to grasp Pins’ vest and haul him into a seated position. Pins’ head lolled forward, then back. Lom did a quick body scan. The angry red weal on Pins’ hand confirmed his first thought – the Kid had only shot the gun from the sheriff’s hand. Contact with the ground had done the rest.

“He’s breathin’. Must’ve hit his head. I’ll take care of him,” Lom said, hefting the man over his shoulder. “You got enough problems right now.” He offered Heyes a final, significant glance and Heyes nodded weary acknowledgement.

~*~*~

Heyes leaned on the tree and watched as Trevors loaded Pins into the wagon.

“I’ll get him into town. You two’d best disappear.” He tipped his hat in farewell, climbed aboard the wagon, and started off up the road back to Sulphur. Heyes watched the wagon disappear, trying not to think about the pain radiating from his shoulder throughout his body, or the long, painful explanation he had yet to give the Kid.

“You all right?” Curry growled after a while.

“No.” He didn’t move from the tree, but suddenly somehow he was sinking, unable to stand. He let himself go; Curry caught him and he gasped at the contact. Curry eased him to the ground, opened his shirt to look at the wound.

“It’s – hey. This isn’t fresh.” He drew back, looked suspiciously at Heyes. “When did this happen?”

Heyes started to answer but got distracted by the black spots swirling in his vision. Before long they thickened, closing out all else.

He came to lying on a bedroll in a clearing, his shoulder freshly bandaged and throbbing only faintly. It was evening; he could hear water running somewhere off to his right. He was just wondering if the Kid had abandoned him when Curry came into view, boots wet, carrying the coffee pot. Without a glance at Heyes, he knelt in the middle of the clearing and began building a fire.

Heyes shifted carefully into a more upright position and Curry hesitated in his activity but didn’t look up. Heyes made himself comfortable with his back to a tree and watched Curry light the fire and set the pot on a stone in it. One of the horses whickered softly, away to Heyes’ left.

Curry sat back on his heels. Heyes sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to this.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked mildly.

“Do what?” Even the two words sounded angry, grudging.

“On the road. Why’d you save me?”

Curry threw twigs into the fire, one by one, as if each had done something to enrage him. “I shouldn’t’ve?”

“No, you should have.” Heyes shifted again, carefully. “But why did you?”

Curry snapped another twig in his fist and threw it. “I don’t know. I just did.” Heyes could see he was working himself into anger. “I guess because I’m stupid.”

“After what I did…” Heyes began. He flinched when Curry jumped to his feet, flinging the remaining twigs away from him. He strode a few steps away, then turned to face Heyes, eyes blazing.

“Yeah. Because I’m stupid,” he repeated. “I must be. Only someone stupid would save you after what you did, after all that happened to me because of what you did, and even though I wanted to beat the living daylights out of you—” He was yelling now— “And even though I’m _still_ madder than hell at you, and even though I want to grab you by the neck and shake the damn’ explanation out of you, Heyes, I _still_ trust you because I can’t _stop_ trusting you!” He took a breath. His face was red, his hands clenched. “So I _must_ be a damn fool!”

He stumped across the clearing and disappeared from view. Sounds came from where the horses were tied. Heyes took a much needed breath and let it out slowly, shakily.

Curry stomped back into the clearing and threw down his bedroll. Heyes dropped his forehead into his good hand and breathed steadily for a while, feeling foolish, until the lightheadedness passed. When he looked up again Curry was watching him. Heyes felt strangely humble.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked.

“No.” Curry moved abruptly, scowling, still angry. “I feel lousy. I won’t feel better ’til I get some answers! Damn it, Heyes, I _will_ beat the truth outta you if I have to. After what you did …” He advanced as if involuntarily. Heyes drew back, wary, meeting Curry’s furious stare.

“For a second I thought you were gonna shoot _me_.”

Curry stopped, anger ebbing from his face. “What the … why?”

Heyes’ glance flicked down to Curry’s gun and the fist clenched next to it, then back to Curry’s blazing eyes.

“Because of the look on your face.”

Curry straightened, took one slow breath. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Heyes inhaled deeply. “If not?”

Curry blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what if I don’t explain anything to you?”

Curry stared at him for a moment, something flaring and dying in his eyes – something like hurt, betrayal. Then Curry turned abruptly and stalked across the clearing in the direction of the horses. Heyes waited in silence, not breathing, until Curry rode past him across the clearing, headed toward the river. He didn’t pause or look around, just rode away into the night. Heyes watched him go, hoping with his entire body and soul that he knew what he was doing and, as he rarely did, doubting it.

~*~*~

He awoke stiff and cold at dawn. Remembering what had happened the night before did nothing to warm his body or his mood. His right arm would hardly work; it took serious effort for him to struggle out of his bedroll and get a fresh fire going. He finally managed to start the fire and stand, and was warming himself by it, gingerly working his arm, when a crackle of leaves made him turn, reaching left-handed for his gun.

Curry walked out into the clearing, straight to the fire. Heyes stared, unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face. Curry passed him and picked up the coffee pot, speaking to it.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I guess I don’t need to. I trust you. I don’t know how not to.”

Heyes sighed heavily, tired, relieved and at the same time shamed by Curry’s faith.

“I just wish—” Curry began uncertainly.

“Kid,” Heyes cut him off and Curry finally raised his eyes to his partner. Heyes made a sound of exasperation.

“When was there ever any secrets between us? I just wanted you to blow off enough steam so I could explain before you really did wring my neck.”

Confused and annoyed, Curry said, “I was up all night tryin’ to figure it out. I couldn’t. Even I can’t figure you when you get off on one of your schemes. But by dawn I’d figured out that I do know one thing. You’ve never once done me wrong, and you never would.”

Heyes smiled wryly. “Try to keep that in mind while I’m explaining, will you?” He went to a fallen tree by the river side and sat stiffly. Curry set the coffee pot on the fire and sat crosslegged on his own bedroll, left there when he’d ridden off the night before. He looked tired. He rested his elbows on his knees and waited.

Heyes composed himself, slowly, searching for the best words, but when he looked at his partner he knew there would be no easy way to say it.

“It was Bill.”

Sudden anger darkened Curry’s eyes. “Bill shot you?”

“Hang on, Kid. It’s worse than that.”

Curry visibly restrained himself, hands clenched in front of him. “Just tell me.”

Gently Heyes said, “He’s dead.”

Curry examined his face as he absorbed this, silent for a long time. Then he nodded.

“It was self-defense,” Heyes added, and Curry looked up.

“You didn’t have to say that.”

Levelly Heyes said, “Yes I did.”

Curry scowled. “How’d it happen?”

“I saw him. In Cooper. He saw us. I decided to get rid of him – to turn him in to the sheriff, get him off our backs forever. He didn’t want to go peaceably.”

Understanding dawned in Curry’s face. “That’s why you tried to talk me into going into Sulphur.”

Heyes nodded. “Except I wasn’t convincing. I guess you know me too well. I didn’t … all I could think of was he was liable to ride down on us at any second while we were sitting there arguing. So … I did what I did.” He met Curry’s eyes. “I rode after him. I wanted to take him alive. I tried to.”

“But …” Curry scowled again. “But Bill’s my brother.”

Heyes nodded. “Exactly.”

“Him bein’ my brother makes it my business too.”

“Kid, I never said it wasn’t your business. I just didn’t want to see him gun you down because you’re too mule-headed to shoot back at him.”

“I would’ve—”

“Kid. I didn’t want you to have to. I didn’t want to involve you. I figured … I could live with it. Whatever happened.”

Curry glared at him. “And what if he’d killed you? Did you figure I could live with that?”

Heyes faced his anger gravely. “You’d have had to.”

“Heyes—”

“Anyway, he wasn’t that good a shot.” Heyes’ attempt at levity failed.

“I don’t need you to protect me from my own brother.”

“Kid, I wasn’t … I was protecting us both. I just …” Heyes admitted the truth. “I just chose a way to finally deal with him. I mean, not to kill him. That’s just the way it ended up.”

Curry said, subdued, “I know.”

“I owed you the truth.” Heyes shrugged. “There it is.” He looked away, waited, looked back. “Kid…”

Curry’s gesture silenced him. “Heyes. I hear you. But I know why you did it. I think I know how you did it. I know … he’s been askin’ for it for a long time. I’m glad it was him and not you.”

Heyes remained silent, letting Curry absorb what he’d learned and make what sense of it he could. Then he said, “I’m sorry, Kid.”

“No. It was bound to happen. I always knew it. I knew it’d come down to it sooner or later. I just wish …”

Heyes nodded, stared at his own hands.

“Heyes.”

He looked up. Curry met his gaze squarely, as honestly as ever.

“I don’t blame you. It’s done with.”

Heyes sighed, deeply relieved. “I guess it is. I think we’d better ride on.”

Curry eyed him. “You up to it?”

“No, but we can’t stay here.”

Curry rose, looked around. “North, I think.”

“I think so too.” Heyes got up with considerably more effort and fuss. “No thanks. I can do it myself.”

Curry ignored the dig; they packed up and he saddled Heyes’ horse for him. By dint of much exertion and pain Heyes mounted and they rode toward the river. Heyes pulled up there, and Curry turned to look at him.

“You okay?”

Heyes squinted at him. “Are you sure..?”

“Heyes,” Curry said warningly. Taking the hint, Heyes gestured surrender with his good hand.

“Okay, okay. That’s what I get for thinking.”

They started across the river, heading north.

“That’s okay,” Curry said. “I was thinking too.”

“What?” Heyes asked, knowing Curry, not the most talkative of men, meant something when he offered such an opening.

Curry guided his mount carefully through the knee-deep water; his words carried back to Heyes as he followed.

“The Lord sure does make mistakes sometimes.”

Heyes scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean like Bill.”

Heyes puzzled this in silence for a moment. “I don’t get you.”

Curry shrugged. “I was just thinking maybe I ended up with the wrong brother.”

He urged his horse up the far bank. Heyes, a grin spreading across his face, spurred his own mount after.

 

 

The End

 

 

 


End file.
